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"https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/4268/4268858_PaddlePaw_debug.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/4268/4268858_PaddlePaw_debug.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/4268/4268858_PaddlePaw_debug.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "", "description_bbcode_parsed": "", "writing": "\"I said I agree with Dad,\" Sonny repeated. He reached out put his hand on Dalton's shoulder like their dad had done only seconds ago, then thought better of it. Any attempt to touch him now and the guy would probably clock him straight in the kisser. \"Look, I know you're pissed off, D,\" he said quietly. \"But think about it a minute. Is this really the little brother you know?\"\n\nDalton didn't hesitate. \"Yes!\"\n\n\"No, it isn't,\" Sonny contradicted. \"This isn't like Rex at all, and you know it. Something's not right with him. He doesn't pull shit — uh — stuff like this —\"\n\n\"Well, he does now!\"\n\n\"Only temporarily,\" Malcolm interrupted. He appreciated Sonny's comments and absently squeezed the back of his son's neck to show his gratitude, but it was Dalton who concerned him most.\n\n\"D, look at me.\"\n\nAt first, Dalton refused, but grudgingly he met his father's gaze.\n\n\"Kiddo, I know you're mad. If your Uncle Warren had taken a knife to the paint job on my Charger when I was your age, well, your grandpa would've seriously had his hands full keeping us apart.\" Dalton opened his mouth to jump in, but Malcolm held up a hand for quiet. \"I'm not saying you don't have every right to be mad. But I am asking you to cut your little brother some slack. I need to get to the bottom of what's happening with him, and these fights you boys keep having aren't helping —\"\n\n\"Well, I'm not the one who —\"\n\n\"Dalton. Please, son, I'm asking you nicely. Just lay off him for a bit, so I can figure out what's on his mind. Right now, he's so tense I can't get him to open up about anything, and whatever he's bottling up, it's getting bigger.\"\n\n\"That's a freakin' understatement.\"\n\nWhen utter silence greeted his mutterings, Dalton looked up – and caved. He couldn't ignore the anxiety on the faces of his family, and if they honestly believed this was the way to go, well hell, so be it. With a roll of his eyes, he sighed.\n\n\"Okay, fine, Dad. Whatever. I'll cut the brat a break.\"\n\nBefore D could resist, Malcolm pulled him into a hug, then kissed the top of his head. \"Thank you.\"\n\nNot to be outdone, Sonny winked at his father and reached out to ruffle his brother's hair. Since Dalton hated that, Sonny took great pleasure in turning it into a tornadic mess. \"Don't worry, Dad. I'm trying to get Rex to open up to me, too, so between the two of us, we'll get somewhere.\"\n\n\"I hope you guys aren't looking at me to help!\" Squirming out from under their attentions, Dalton bent down and swiped one of his baseball caps off the floor. After he'd plunked it on backwards to cover the disaster Sonny had wrought, he pointed a warning finger at his dad. \"If I go near that kid of yours right now, it won't be to cuddle him on my lap and ask him what's wrong, I can guarantee you that.\"\n\nSensing that D was at least half-kidding this time, Malcolm gave him a playful swat to the seat of his Dockers.\n\n\"Well, would you mind setting the table while Sonny and I discuss strategy then?\"\n\n\"Fine with me, Pops. But if Rex starts getting on my nerves when he and Kurtie-Pie get home, don't blame me if a fork ends up in his eye.\"\n\n\"Dalton!\"\n\n\"Ow! Just kidding, Dad! Relax!\"\n\n \n\n∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞\n \n\nFour days later, Malcolm tried once again to break through Rex's reserve. Sonny had wanted to give it a shot himself much sooner than this, but Malcolm had forbidden it. Pestering Reckless to open up obviously hadn't worked so far, besides which Malcolm knew he wouldn't welcome them as long as his butt was still sore.\n\nRex was feeling much better now, though. He didn't grimace any more when he joined them for meals, and he was plunking himself down on their couches without a second's hesitation. With a little bit of luck, he'd be far more receptive to a father-son chat today – one could hope anyway.\n\nDeliberately waiting until long after supper, Malcolm knocked once and slipped into Rex's room at bedtime.\n\n\"Lights out, kiddo.\"\n\nSprawled face up on his bed on top of his covers, Rex glanced over at him, then returned to his magazine.\n\n\"In a minute.\"\n\n\"No, now.\"\n\nFor an instant, Malcolm wasn't sure he'd obey, but another look at his father must have convinced Rex that his dad meant business. He tossed the magazine and rolled over onto his side to face the wall, saying nothing. With a silent prayer that his next move would work, Malcolm flicked the light switch to surround them in darkness, then padded over to Rex's bed. Careful not to sit on his son, Malcolm eased down beside him on the mattress before laying a hand on the boy's cotton-covered shoulder.\n\n\"You up for a talk?\"\n\nReckless shrugged. \"I thought you said it was bedtime,\" he muttered.\n\n\"It is,\" Malcolm agreed. \"But some of the most important things I learn about your brothers slip out at this time of day,\" he said quietly. \"When it's just the two of us ... no one hanging around to eavesdrop ... nothing to interrupt us ... just a dad and his boy hanging out in the dark, getting to know each other a little better.\" He squeezed the shoulder beneath his fingers, then let his hand drop to rest against Rex's chest. \"Feel like giving it a shot? ... You know you can tell me anything ... Whatever's on your mind – big or small – I'd love to hear it, Jim-Bob.\"\n\nAs Malcolm's voice trailed off, Rex couldn't help it and looked up into the man's face. It had been a long time since his father had called him by that nickname, the one both he and Mom had given him at age three. Dad probably hadn't uttered it since she left the family, and until this minute, Rex hadn't even realized how much he'd missed hearing it. He wanted his dad to say it again, but only on his own, not because Rex asked him to. Staring up into Malcolm's shadowed face, he waited for what seemed like forever, but all his father did was continue to rub his chest. This wasn't what he wanted nor needed, so finally, the teenager turned back to the wall with a pout.\n\n\"Rex?\"\n\nMalcolm tensed. He couldn't escape the feeling that a window of opportunity had just slammed shut in his face, and he scrambled to think what signs he must have missed. The way Rex had turned to him before ... he'd been expecting something, but what? More words? A gesture of some kind? Had he been waiting for a hug? A kiss? What?\n\nDesperate to salvage something of this night, Malcolm remained where he was and held his breath. It was his hope that Rex would confide in him in due course if he just sat quietly long enough, but the deep breaths of his sixteen-year-old son soon dispelled that belief. Rex was asleep now, and he wasn't going to tell his father anything.\n\nIntellectually, Malcolm knew he could leave without offending his son, but emotionally, he just wasn't ready to. He stretched out beside his child, then hugged him from behind. He wouldn't embarrass the boy by staying until morning, but for the next little while, he didn't think it would hurt.\n\n \n\n∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞\n \n\nOver the next several weeks, very little changed in the Barrett household. Without prompting, Reckless raided his savings to make amends over the Honda, but that was pretty much it. Apart from the restored peace that occurred between the two middle brothers, Rex's attitude remained aloof toward his family and his behavior unpredictable. He didn't laugh often, and it was extremely rare to see him cut loose. When he did, Malcolm never saw it. It was invariably done in the presence of his brothers – never when their dad was in the house – and if Malcolm learned of it secondhand, then made the mistake of teasing him about it, Rex would sulk and take off rather than explain himself to his father.\n\nEven more frustrating to everyone were Malcolm's nightly visits to Rex's room. Simply put, they yielded nothing concrete, and it was the same with the talks instigated by Sonny, plus the ones now prompted by D. Even Kurt tried to help, but no matter which member of his family took him aside, the high schooler categorically refused to unburden himself. The only thing he seemed comfortable doing was getting into mischief, and with years of experience behind him from the days when Malcolm didn't care, the teen's imagination knew few bounds. It became a weekly occurrence to find him standing in a corner, bored to distraction, or draped over their dad's lap, sobbing while his bottom was strapped. Often, he was spanked solely by hand with the belt left hanging untouched in the closet, but if that made a difference, nobody in the family could detect it. The moody sixteen-year-old was on a path of destruction that none of his relatives could comprehend...until one day – to everyone's surprise – Malcolm finally did.\n\nWhile both grandparents and all three of Rex's brothers had caught glimpses of the truth, it was Malcolm who ultimately identified the pattern after weeks of observing his third son. When he finally recognized the whole, he could have kicked himself for taking so long. He didn't know how he could have missed it. For months, he'd been worried that Rex hated him, convinced that all the acting-up and avoidance tactics were just a drawn out punishment directed at him for bad parenting. He'd assumed that it was some kind of childish retribution for nine years of fatherly neglect, but he'd been wrong, so wrong, because that wasn't it at all. Rex wasn't irritating him on purpose in an attempt to drive him crazy.\n\nHis little boy was just scared. Scared that his dad's newfound interest in him was all an act, and scared most of all of asking for a hug that might not come without a reason. He'd been passed over in favor of his brothers for so long, the idea of taking Malcolm's love for granted was completely foreign to him. The only way Rex knew to guarantee paternal affection was to break the rules since he was always held by his father after a spanking. That he could still get a hug without misbehaving first, and therefore \"earning\" it, clearly hadn't sunk in.\n\nThe longer Malcolm considered this, the more he felt like a failure, but a single sleepless night was all he allowed himself to wallow in shame and guilt. Rex obviously didn't trust him yet. He didn't trust that his dad's love for him was unconditional, and even if time alone might heal most of the rocks in their relationship, it wasn't fair to make him wait. Rex had waited too long already.\n\nThe next morning, Malcolm put his plan into action and cornered Rex in the upstairs hallway. Ever since that first real visit to the boy's grandparents months before, Malcolm had been chasing him down to give him a hug, but too often the kid had escaped, and Malcolm had let him go. Well, no more. From now on, Reckless was going to get every hug he was owed if Malcolm had to take up track just to catch him and deliver them.\n\nHemmed in by the linen closet with no escape, Rex stood awkwardly while Malcolm enfolded him in a bear hug. He wanted to melt into it the way his brothers did so easily, but too many worrisome questions were circulating in his head.\n\nWhat had he done to deserve this?\n\nWhy was Dad holding him so tight?\n\nWas this the last hug he was ever going to get or something?\n\nWhat was going on?\n\nBefore Rex could open his mouth and ask, Malcolm read his mind, cupped his chin, then tilted his head up.\n\n\"I love you, Reckless. You don't have to be bad to get hugged.\"\n\nA stunned Rex didn't know what to reply, but that was okay. Malcolm didn't need him to say anything. The only thing he wanted Rex to do at that moment was to listen and remember, and to that end, he pressed the wavy hair back against his chest, then simply hugged his son in silence.\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": ""I said I agree with Dad," Sonny repeated. He reached out put his hand on Dalton's shoulder like their dad had done only seconds ago, then thought better of it. Any attempt to touch him now and the guy would probably clock him straight in the kisser. "Look, I know you're pissed off, D," he said quietly. "But think about it a minute. Is this really the little brother you know?"

Dalton didn't hesitate. "Yes!"

"No, it isn't," Sonny contradicted. "This isn't like Rex at all, and you know it. Something's not right with him. He doesn't pull shit — uh — stuff like this —"

"Well, he does now!"

"Only temporarily," Malcolm interrupted. He appreciated Sonny's comments and absently squeezed the back of his son's neck to show his gratitude, but it was Dalton who concerned him most.

"D, look at me."

At first, Dalton refused, but grudgingly he met his father's gaze.

"Kiddo, I know you're mad. If your Uncle Warren had taken a knife to the paint job on my Charger when I was your age, well, your grandpa would've seriously had his hands full keeping us apart." Dalton opened his mouth to jump in, but Malcolm held up a hand for quiet. "I'm not saying you don't have every right to be mad. But I am asking you to cut your little brother some slack. I need to get to the bottom of what's happening with him, and these fights you boys keep having aren't helping —"

"Well, I'm not the one who —"

"Dalton. Please, son, I'm asking you nicely. Just lay off him for a bit, so I can figure out what's on his mind. Right now, he's so tense I can't get him to open up about anything, and whatever he's bottling up, it's getting bigger."

"That's a freakin' understatement."

When utter silence greeted his mutterings, Dalton looked up – and caved. He couldn't ignore the anxiety on the faces of his family, and if they honestly believed this was the way to go, well hell, so be it. With a roll of his eyes, he sighed.

"Okay, fine, Dad. Whatever. I'll cut the brat a break."

Before D could resist, Malcolm pulled him into a hug, then kissed the top of his head. "Thank you."

Not to be outdone, Sonny winked at his father and reached out to ruffle his brother's hair. Since Dalton hated that, Sonny took great pleasure in turning it into a tornadic mess. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm trying to get Rex to open up to me, too, so between the two of us, we'll get somewhere."

"I hope you guys aren't looking at me to help!" Squirming out from under their attentions, Dalton bent down and swiped one of his baseball caps off the floor. After he'd plunked it on backwards to cover the disaster Sonny had wrought, he pointed a warning finger at his dad. "If I go near that kid of yours right now, it won't be to cuddle him on my lap and ask him what's wrong, I can guarantee you that."

Sensing that D was at least half-kidding this time, Malcolm gave him a playful swat to the seat of his Dockers.

"Well, would you mind setting the table while Sonny and I discuss strategy then?"

"Fine with me, Pops. But if Rex starts getting on my nerves when he and Kurtie-Pie get home, don't blame me if a fork ends up in his eye."

"Dalton!"

"Ow! Just kidding, Dad! Relax!"

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
 

Four days later, Malcolm tried once again to break through Rex's reserve. Sonny had wanted to give it a shot himself much sooner than this, but Malcolm had forbidden it. Pestering Reckless to open up obviously hadn't worked so far, besides which Malcolm knew he wouldn't welcome them as long as his butt was still sore.

Rex was feeling much better now, though. He didn't grimace any more when he joined them for meals, and he was plunking himself down on their couches without a second's hesitation. With a little bit of luck, he'd be far more receptive to a father-son chat today – one could hope anyway.

Deliberately waiting until long after supper, Malcolm knocked once and slipped into Rex's room at bedtime.

"Lights out, kiddo."

Sprawled face up on his bed on top of his covers, Rex glanced over at him, then returned to his magazine.

"In a minute."

"No, now."

For an instant, Malcolm wasn't sure he'd obey, but another look at his father must have convinced Rex that his dad meant business. He tossed the magazine and rolled over onto his side to face the wall, saying nothing. With a silent prayer that his next move would work, Malcolm flicked the light switch to surround them in darkness, then padded over to Rex's bed. Careful not to sit on his son, Malcolm eased down beside him on the mattress before laying a hand on the boy's cotton-covered shoulder.

"You up for a talk?"

Reckless shrugged. "I thought you said it was bedtime," he muttered.

"It is," Malcolm agreed. "But some of the most important things I learn about your brothers slip out at this time of day," he said quietly. "When it's just the two of us ... no one hanging around to eavesdrop ... nothing to interrupt us ... just a dad and his boy hanging out in the dark, getting to know each other a little better." He squeezed the shoulder beneath his fingers, then let his hand drop to rest against Rex's chest. "Feel like giving it a shot? ... You know you can tell me anything ... Whatever's on your mind – big or small – I'd love to hear it, Jim-Bob."

As Malcolm's voice trailed off, Rex couldn't help it and looked up into the man's face. It had been a long time since his father had called him by that nickname, the one both he and Mom had given him at age three. Dad probably hadn't uttered it since she left the family, and until this minute, Rex hadn't even realized how much he'd missed hearing it. He wanted his dad to say it again, but only on his own, not because Rex asked him to. Staring up into Malcolm's shadowed face, he waited for what seemed like forever, but all his father did was continue to rub his chest. This wasn't what he wanted nor needed, so finally, the teenager turned back to the wall with a pout.

"Rex?"

Malcolm tensed. He couldn't escape the feeling that a window of opportunity had just slammed shut in his face, and he scrambled to think what signs he must have missed. The way Rex had turned to him before ... he'd been expecting something, but what? More words? A gesture of some kind? Had he been waiting for a hug? A kiss? What?

Desperate to salvage something of this night, Malcolm remained where he was and held his breath. It was his hope that Rex would confide in him in due course if he just sat quietly long enough, but the deep breaths of his sixteen-year-old son soon dispelled that belief. Rex was asleep now, and he wasn't going to tell his father anything.

Intellectually, Malcolm knew he could leave without offending his son, but emotionally, he just wasn't ready to. He stretched out beside his child, then hugged him from behind. He wouldn't embarrass the boy by staying until morning, but for the next little while, he didn't think it would hurt.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
 

Over the next several weeks, very little changed in the Barrett household. Without prompting, Reckless raided his savings to make amends over the Honda, but that was pretty much it. Apart from the restored peace that occurred between the two middle brothers, Rex's attitude remained aloof toward his family and his behavior unpredictable. He didn't laugh often, and it was extremely rare to see him cut loose. When he did, Malcolm never saw it. It was invariably done in the presence of his brothers – never when their dad was in the house – and if Malcolm learned of it secondhand, then made the mistake of teasing him about it, Rex would sulk and take off rather than explain himself to his father.

Even more frustrating to everyone were Malcolm's nightly visits to Rex's room. Simply put, they yielded nothing concrete, and it was the same with the talks instigated by Sonny, plus the ones now prompted by D. Even Kurt tried to help, but no matter which member of his family took him aside, the high schooler categorically refused to unburden himself. The only thing he seemed comfortable doing was getting into mischief, and with years of experience behind him from the days when Malcolm didn't care, the teen's imagination knew few bounds. It became a weekly occurrence to find him standing in a corner, bored to distraction, or draped over their dad's lap, sobbing while his bottom was strapped. Often, he was spanked solely by hand with the belt left hanging untouched in the closet, but if that made a difference, nobody in the family could detect it. The moody sixteen-year-old was on a path of destruction that none of his relatives could comprehend...until one day – to everyone's surprise – Malcolm finally did.

While both grandparents and all three of Rex's brothers had caught glimpses of the truth, it was Malcolm who ultimately identified the pattern after weeks of observing his third son. When he finally recognized the whole, he could have kicked himself for taking so long. He didn't know how he could have missed it. For months, he'd been worried that Rex hated him, convinced that all the acting-up and avoidance tactics were just a drawn out punishment directed at him for bad parenting. He'd assumed that it was some kind of childish retribution for nine years of fatherly neglect, but he'd been wrong, so wrong, because that wasn't it at all. Rex wasn't irritating him on purpose in an attempt to drive him crazy.

His little boy was just scared. Scared that his dad's newfound interest in him was all an act, and scared most of all of asking for a hug that might not come without a reason. He'd been passed over in favor of his brothers for so long, the idea of taking Malcolm's love for granted was completely foreign to him. The only way Rex knew to guarantee paternal affection was to break the rules since he was always held by his father after a spanking. That he could still get a hug without misbehaving first, and therefore "earning" it, clearly hadn't sunk in.

The longer Malcolm considered this, the more he felt like a failure, but a single sleepless night was all he allowed himself to wallow in shame and guilt. Rex obviously didn't trust him yet. He didn't trust that his dad's love for him was unconditional, and even if time alone might heal most of the rocks in their relationship, it wasn't fair to make him wait. Rex had waited too long already.

The next morning, Malcolm put his plan into action and cornered Rex in the upstairs hallway. Ever since that first real visit to the boy's grandparents months before, Malcolm had been chasing him down to give him a hug, but too often the kid had escaped, and Malcolm had let him go. Well, no more. From now on, Reckless was going to get every hug he was owed if Malcolm had to take up track just to catch him and deliver them.

Hemmed in by the linen closet with no escape, Rex stood awkwardly while Malcolm enfolded him in a bear hug. He wanted to melt into it the way his brothers did so easily, but too many worrisome questions were circulating in his head.

What had he done to deserve this?

Why was Dad holding him so tight?

Was this the last hug he was ever going to get or something?

What was going on?

Before Rex could open his mouth and ask, Malcolm read his mind, cupped his chin, then tilted his head up.

"I love you, Reckless. You don't have to be bad to get hugged."

A stunned Rex didn't know what to reply, but that was okay. Malcolm didn't need him to say anything. The only thing he wanted Rex to do at that moment was to listen and remember, and to that end, he pressed the wavy hair back against his chest, then simply hugged his son in silence.
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